


Wheel to the Grindstone

by meowvelous



Category: Dollhouse, Kingdom Hearts
Genre: Crossovers & Fandom Fusions, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-08-01
Updated: 2014-08-01
Packaged: 2018-02-11 08:28:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,297
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2061120
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/meowvelous/pseuds/meowvelous
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Five Times Axel made Roxas Uncomfortable (+1 Time He Didn’t). Or, a Dollhouse AU in which Axel is a Doll, and drives Roxas, his handler, up the wall and back.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Wheel to the Grindstone

**Author's Note:**

> Opinions expressed therein (mainly the gendered slurs) do not represent the author's views. Pretend Axel is putting on a really bad english accent in #3. Axel's characterization in part 1 to 5 is purposely inconsistent, as he's putting on different personas. Some of the power dynamics here are kinda squicky, but it comes with the territory of the show's verse. I kept Topher in because he's great and I love him.

0.  
  
The chair’s light is violet, instead of its customary blue. The Doll doesn’t seem to be in pain – which is a relief. Their gaze is dreamy, focused unnervingly on Roxas. He feels like a fake; he hasn’t done anything to earn that look. Not yet, at least, and besides, he doesn’t  _want_  the Doll to like him, because he can’t truly earn that trust.  
  
Topher clears his throat. “You know, for this to work, you need to—” He uses both hands to point to the script in Roxas’ hands, those damn words printed on a single piece of paper. Roxas shoots him a look, needing no reminder. Not really. Honestly.  
  
Roxas takes a breath, forces the words past his lips. “Everything's going to be all right,” he lies.  
  
The Doll smiles, and replies – “Now that you're here. “  
  
“Do you trust me?” On purpose, his grip on the Doll’s hand is loose, having only reached for it because Topher said he had to. His other hand, the one holding the script, is clenched tight and trembling.  
  
“With my life.” The Doll assures him.  
  
And then, easy as that, it’s done.  
  
  
1.  
  
It’s their first assignment together. God only knows how many times Axel has been sent out without Roxas, but this is the first time Roxas is with him as he sets out. It’s also the first time Roxas witnesses the Doll’s transformation, watches the blue light play over Axel’s hair, the way his hands tremble and pain flickers across his face.  
  
Then the chair raises itself upright, and Roxas watches as the pain is forgotten, expression sliding into a lazy grin. “You finished?” He asks Topher, and without waiting for an answer, rises from the chair. “Good. Come my man, the evening awaits.” Axel claps a hand over Roxas’ shoulder, and it takes all of his willpower not to tense up.  
  
“Right. Let’s get you dressed.” Roxas can’t bring himself to smile – the assignment calls for him to act as Axel’s wingman (which is why he’s already dressed, wearing this ridiculous outfit, top buttons of his shirt undone instead of being a covered by a suit jacket), but he’s a Handler, not a Doll, and feels no need to commit to this role.  
  
Luckily, Axel accepts his words easily, disregarding any undertones. “Lead the way. Can’t believe you got a head-start on me, but gotta say, you’re looking good.” Hand an uncomfortable weight and uncannily warmth on Roxas’ shoulder, Axel wracks his eyes up and down Roxas’ body, looking a bit _too_ eagerly at him.  
  
“Uh, thanks. So, it’s just down that way – why don’t you go pick something out…” Shrugging off the hand, Roxas points Axel in the right direction, waits until he’s out of earshot, before whirling around. “What the  _hell_  Topher.” He hisses, because this isn’t what he signed up for.  
  
As always, Topher adopts that look to injured genius – “Bromance, man. It’s totally hot right now, and the client wanted to get between a guy and his buddy, so…” He trails off and shrugs, raising his shoulders slightly higher than he needs to. “Who am I to deny her bitchy friendship wrecking desire?”  
  
Roxas rubs a hand over his face, and vows to punch Topher on the same day he hands in his resignation. “Yeah yeah yeah, I get it, we give them what they want – and need. Just… give me some warning next time.”  
  
“Will do, scary boss-man.” Topher shoots him a slightly unconvincing grin, and Roxas shakes his head as he goes off to see if Axel’s dressed himself yet.  
  
  
2.  
  
“Hey man, I appreciate it, but I could’ve gotten out of that without you.” Axel is grinning, and bleeding from the corner of his mouth. He swipes it away with bruised knuckles, looking slightly insane. Fortunately, that’s the extent of his injuries – no hard to explain bruises, or, heaven forbid, anything that’ll scar. Noticing the once-over Roxas is giving him, Axel raises an eyebrow. “If you like what you see, I don’t blame you. But I a’int interested—”  
  
Biting back a ‘don’t flatter yourself’ – Roxas rolls his eyes, and refuses to dignify that with an answer. “Don’t you think it’s time for your treatment?”  
  
As he says this, he watches Axel’s face, watches as that distance grows between his adopted persona and the rest of reality. The adrenaline trickles away, the fight leaving him; he accepts Roxas’ hand on his arm, allows himself to be lead into the unmarked black van. It lasts until the door is slammed shut.  
  
Then – “Shit, I still can’t believe that bitch had a boyfriend.” Axel lounges back in his chair, arrogance flowing into his posture. “Why is it always the hot ones that’re insane, and taken? I mean, if she’s got a boyfriend and wants me, hey, no skin off my back. Who wouldn’t want a piece of this? But when he finds out and blames it on me? Bitch, at least admit that you came to me.”  
  
“Hmmm.” Right now, Roxas estimates that client 1 and client 2 are back in their apartment, consummating their relationship once more. It’s pretty pathetic to hire a Doll in order to make your boyfriend jealous, but then again, most of the requests they get fall into the pathetic category, one way or another.  
  
“And to bring friends along – if you’re gonna fight for your woman, do it yourself. You know what I’m sayin’? It’s somethin’ I learned on the inside – you gotta fight, cos a’int no one you can trust to fight for you.” He brushes his thumb over his cheek, passing over the teardrop tattooed underneath his eye in a habitual gesture. The tattoo is only temporary, of course – Roxas knows that, watched Topher carefully apply it. But to Axel's current self, it must've been an important momento from his past...

It always seems unfair that the Dolls are given so much baggage, even for a job as simple as this.  
  
Slowly, it registers that while Roxas has been staring at Axel, Axel has begun to stare back. “What?” Roxas asks, even though he’s fairly sure that he’s not going to like the answer.  
  
“Still, you fought for me. I mean, I didn’t need it, but… I gotta respect that, backin’ a bro up. You ever find yourself in trouble, you need someone to watch your back – I owe you one, so gimme a call. I’ll look out for you.” Axel leans forward, bruised knuckles resting against those stupid pointy knees of his, all intense attention, and all of it focused on Roxas – and suddenly, Roxas wishes the back of these vans were bigger.  
  
He has to swallow before he can reply. “…Right. I’ll keep that in mind.” Something about his tone must be unconvincing, because Axel arches his eyebrow, and Roxas has to scramble to reassure him. “No, really, if I need someone else in my corner, I’ll look you up.”  
  
Apparently that’s enough, because Axel smiles smugly and nods, then offers his fist forward. Roxas returns the action, completing what must be the most awkward fist bump in the history of awkward man interactions. Luckily, as Axel reclines back, they’re pulling into the parking lot.  
  
Then they’re getting out, the elevator is sliding open and Axel is stepping into it. He turns, and says – “After my treatment, let’s go grab some beers. Celebrate bros before hos.”  
  
And Roxas forces himself to grin, lifting a hand in acknowledgment. “Sure. I’ll hold you to that.” But of course he won’t – as soon as the doors slide close, and Axel disappears from sight, Roxas sighs and wishes badly for a strong drink.  
  
  
3.  
  
“Ah, jolly good. I was wondering when you chaps would pull up.” Axel adjusts his cuffs, needlessly – everything about him is all crisp lines and sharp angles, perfectly put together. He looks  _good_ , wearing the suit like it’s made for him (which it is), and suddenly Roxas understands why this particular persona is so popular.  
  
Still, it’s unnerving, and however perfectly Axel wears the personality, some part of it screams wrong – is at odds, with his eyes and his smile and… Roxas has been holding the door open, staring like an imbecile, even though he’d seen Axel like this when they left the Dollhouse, should’ve remembered what he looked like.  
  
Then Axel is climbing into the van, patting Roxas’ shoulder. “Alright then, mate?” He raises an eyebrow, flashing a grin that’s a bit too sharp to be entirely safe.  
  
And Roxas shakes his head, reminds himself that all of this is fake, a made up persona plastered onto a vacant Doll, and slams the door shut with a bit more force that necessary. “Yeah, I’m fine.”  
  
…Except for that fact that Axel’s hand is  _still on his shoulder_ , then it starts to slide down, and he actually has the gall to give Roxas a quick pat on his ass. “Right-o, why don’t you fix me a drink? Ta.” He drops into his chair, crossing his legs (which look longer than they usually do, thanks to the cut of his pant-leg) at the ankles.  
  
Letting out an irritated huff, Roxas lowers himself into his own seat, reminding himself that the Dolls aren’t to be bruised, however tempting it is to ram his fist into their faces. “I’m a chaperon, not a stewardess. Fix your own drink.”  
  
“A compromise, then.” He leans forward, still grinning sharply, eyes far too alert as he takes Roxas in. “I’ll buy you a drink, as long as you return the favor. Driver, stop off at the boulevard, I know a place that makes martinis to die for.” Axel raises his voice as he says this, as if he’s actually in a limo with a driver who’ll listen to him.  
  
Wondering why exactly it is that all of Axel’s imprints feel the need to go drink with him, Roxas leans back. “Why don’t we get you to your treatment, and then take it from there?”  
  
“Of course,” Axel allows, ever so graciously, “Treatments do come first. Usually though, I make a habit of putting pleasure before business.” He slides a foot forward, trying to hook it around Roxas’ ankle – and Roxas is so not interested, because, uh,  _yeah_.  
  
“That’s a good policy.” Roxas says through gritted teeth, wondering how much longer it is until they reach the Dollhouse.  
  
The rest of the drive is spent fending off Axel’s advances, and ignoring the laughter coming from the driver’s seat. For once, Roxas is relieved to see Axel step into the elevator, glad of that moment when the doors close and he’s momentarily relieved of duty. He hopes, in vain, that it’s a while before Axel needs takes on the Miss Lonely-hearts persona.  
  
  
4.  
  
“I’m just tired, you know? Of the games people play.” There’s a cigarette hanging from Axel’s fingers, and Roxas tries to ignore how smoothly he brings it up to his lips and takes a drag from it. “I tell you kid, enjoy it while it lasts, that grace period before people let down their act and show you what’s inside of them.”  
  
“I’ll keep that in mind.” Roxas wonders if he can crack open a window, and then, wonders about how many cigarettes Axel’s smoked this weekend. Hopefully not enough to do any permanent damage to his lungs. The Dollhouse might have a good health plan, but god only knows if it covered that kind of thing.  
  
“Is it too much to want something  _real_? Someone without any bullshit, who I can trust. But no, everyone’s got their act; got this pretense they need to keep up…” Taking another deep pull for his cigarette, Axel slowly breathes out the smoke while staring moodily out the window.  
  
There isn’t much to see, except the city lights, dulled by the heavy tint of the glass. Roxas knows because at some point, his gaze always drifts there to avoid staring at Axel. It’s the worst at times like this, when he looks oddly appealing with dark, sleepy eyes and too pale skin. When all you want to do is take him into your arms, and tell him—  
  
“But you,” Axel begins again, interrupting Roxas’ thoughts. “I feel like I can trust you.” He scrutinizes Roxas, cigarette dangling too loosely from his fingertips. “It’s crazy, I barely even know you, but somehow it’s like… If I had to choose between you and Donny, heh, it’d be easy. I wonder why.”  
  
And it isn’t really Roxas that he trusts, just the violet light that told him to, and the blue light that decided this person makes mistakes and attaches himself to the wrong man – even though Roxas quietly thinks to himself that those two things contradict themselves, because he would be a better choice than the scumbag customer, or any of the other creeps from the persona’s past.  
  
And Axel still seems to be waiting for an answer, so Roxas shrugs and forces a smile. “Who can say. Maybe it’s… destiny.” He smirks a bit at that, rueful that they’re playing out this fucked up scenario – but Axel seems to accept this, nodding slowly as he considers it.  
  
“Yeah, maybe.” And then he gives a short laugh. “Or maybe if we met earlier, in different life. Right now, I don’t think I have much left in me to give to you.”  
  
Suddenly desperately grateful that they were pulling up to the parking lot, that soon this persona would be wiped away, Roxas rises from his seat and takes Axel’s arm gently. “Come on, time for your treatment.  
  
  
5.  
  
As sickening as it is, as much as it repulses him and sets off instincts that it’s all so wrong _—_  Sometimes, Roxas prefers their time spent inside the Dollhouse. Vacant smiles are easier to deal with than predatory ones – a Doll’s train of thought might be difficult to follow, but it’s better than inane rambling that’s far too self-assured than a non-existent person has any right to be.  
  
For his seat, Roxas watches the Dolls drift by, and amuses himself by wondering who they were, what they’ve been – who their real selves are, and how far removed they are from their current bodies. It’s interesting, in a speculative fiction way, and easier to bear if you think of it in terms of stories rather than realities.  
  
He hears footsteps, turns to see Axel descending the staircase like a pageant queen – and that, too, pings on Roxas’ radar as wrong, because he’d like to think Axel should move smoothly, not sedately. It’s confusing sometimes, to see what bits and pieces seem to fit better than others.  
  
Even Axel’s smile, as he spots Roxas and approaches him feels off, like it should be sharper.  
  
“I just had a treatment. I like treatments.” He confides, stepping closer than he probably should. His smile widens as Roxas stands (because it’s better than having Axel looming over him).  
  
“Oh yeah? Ready to go swim in the pool, or grab a salad for lunch?” Roxas’ voice is harsher than he means it to be – it’s not Axel’s fault that Roxas follows him everywhere, unable to shake the feeling that Axel should be grabbing pizza and beer instead, kicking back on the couch.  
  
His tone doesn’t register for Axel though, because he’s still smiling easily. “I try to be my best.” He takes another step forward, leaning down. “Am I not the best?” His breath ghosts across Roxas’ lips.  
  
And woah, what? Roxas takes a step back, nearly trips over the bench as he falls down onto it. “What are you…” Craning his neck to see around Axel, Roxas looks towards the glass of Topher’s office, wondering if this is supposed to be a joke. Because Dolls don’t do things like this, not without an imprint. “You’re not…” He looks back at Axel, who’s still smiling so easily, though maybe there’s a glint in his eyes…  
  
Then, thank god, another handler appears, asking if Axel is ready to make some art. They shoot Roxas a questioning glance, probably wondering why he looks like he’s about to run off, but he just shakes his head. He means to go to Topher, ask for an explanation, but he can’t bring himself to, because what if…  
  
What if something is wrong and Roxas mentioning it causes Axel to be wiped and sent to the Attic? He can’t be responsible for something like that; it’s his job to look out for Axel, to keep him safe – even if sometimes he drives Roxas crazy, and even if Roxas isn’t even sure who Axel really is.  
  
  
  
+1  
  
Roxas is pretty sure that fending off crazies  _that have a fucking sword_  wasn’t in his job description, but well, somehow he found it in himself to go above and beyond the call of duty. It was partially out of his own preservation instinct, and partially because this bastard attacked that Doll who looked like he could be Axel’s twin, and for a heart-stopping second, Roxas thought it was Axel who had blood running down either side of his face. And during that second, he found himself charging said bastard, and, well…  
  
It all works out pretty well, considering.  
  
Considering that they lose some dolls, some handlers; others sustain injuries, and scars, but it’s better than being dead.  
  
He’s okay, had a moment where he was worried that a nick on his wrist opened up an important artery. It didn’t, and he’d always meant to get a tattoo there, so he can probably cover up the scar that it leaves behind. Axel’s fine too, had been in the pool, of all places, when it happened and so was out of the main line of fire.  
  
The superiors are impressed with Roxas’ initiative, and grateful for it, even if he let the psycho escape. Enough to give him a promotion and an ‘we owe you one.’ But not impressed enough to let him keep his job, because he did let the anomaly escape instead of putting it down.  
  
Losing his job doesn’t sting like he thought it would; it feels like a weight’s been lifted off his shoulders, especially with what he used his favor on.  
  
Roxas is there, in the boss’ office with a bandage wrapped around his wrist, when he walks in. He moves like Roxas always thought he would, the easy lope of a predator. His green eyes are so bright and alert; he scans over the room, taking everyone in it – and Roxas’ face hurts from grinning so much, probably making him look crazy. Those eyes linger on him for a moment, before focusing on Adelle, who smiles at him.  
  
“Hello Lea. We just need you to sign some paperwork, and then you’ll be on your way.” She pushes a few pieces of paper forward, and they seem so small and insignificant, despite what they represent.  
  
“Already? Geez, that went fast.” Lea leans over, signs everything with a fluid, slightly ridiculous flourish. “Pleasure doing business with you.” He gives her a mock salute, smirks at Dominic, and then turns on his heel. Before he glides out of the office, he pauses and turns to Roxas. “And who are you?”  
  
That’s what Roxas has been waiting for. Attempting to school his expression into something more  _normal_ , he pushes away from the wall, and meets Lea’s gaze (used to looking up, because he’s had time, so much time to adjust to their height difference). “My name’s Roxas. Can I buy you a drink?”  
  
For horrible, worrying second, he thinks that Lea’s going to say no, from the way he seems to be considering it. But then he shrugs and grins back. “Eh, why the hell not? New beginning and all; might as well start it off with a drink.”


End file.
